


Basic Mercies

by Verecunda



Category: Salem's Lot - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18067904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/pseuds/Verecunda
Summary: Mark discovers comfort in being needed.





	Basic Mercies

Mark had woken himself up screaming so often by now that when he jerked awake from a disturbed and fretful sleep, he assumed it had happened again. It was only after he’d been lying awake for a minute or so that another shout came, and he realised that it wasn’t him screaming this time. It was Ben.

For a second or two he was frozen with shock, then Ben gave another sharp, broken cry, and he was out of bed like a shot, into the narrow space between their two beds. The lamp on the little nightstand between them was on as they’d left it, and he could clearly see Ben twitching and jerking in his sleep, struggling against some unseen horror. He gave another scream, a wild strangled thing, full of a concentrated fear that made Mark’s insides curdle with recognition. The flimsy motel wall shuddered as someone in the next room hammered through and enjoined them to _shut the fuck up in there_.

“Ben,” he hissed, reaching out to shake him by the shoulder. When this got no response, only Ben writhing away from his hand with another cry, he shook him harder, and said in a louder voice, “ _Ben_.”

At this, Ben suddenly whipped over to face him, eyes wide open and staring, blind with terror. The movement was so violent that Mark instinctively recoiled, expecting him to lash out. But in the next moment, Ben’s eyes cleared and he seemed to realise where he was, the nightmare losing its grip on him as he came fully awake.

“Mark,” he said, voice rough through his laboured breathing, but full of undisguised relief.

“You were having a nightmare,” said Mark. “I heard you…”

Something in Ben’s face seemed to cave in at that, and he dragged a hand over his face, which was sheened with sweat. “God. I’m sorry.” Then, in an attempt at the same soft tone he used when it was him waking Mark, he said, “It’s all right.”

It had so obviously been thrown out for his sake that Mark shook his head. He was suddenly struck by a horrid, backwards sensation. Since escaping the Lot, he’d already lost count of the times Ben had had to shake him out of some dream, while he thrashed at his bedclothes and screamed his throat raw. Now their positions were reversed, and he felt lost and utterly helpless at what to do.

 _Helpless._ It was a feeling he’d become well acquainted with recently, and he hated it, hated the impotent, floundering panic that came with it. He had been used to being self-reliant, confident in his own knowledge and instincts. But the darkness had swept all that away, along with the rest of his life, and it was only getting worse. He knew he was clinging more and more to Ben, the only solid, sane thing left in the madness that had taken over his world. His new dependence frustrated him, made him feel small and puny and useless as he’d never done before. But at the same time, it was impossible to resist the urge to hand over control to Ben and just let himself drift, because if he drifted he didn’t have to think, and if he didn’t have to think, he didn’t have to remember. So it was Ben who had been making most of the decisions about where they should go and when they should stop, Ben who did the driving while Mark looked for oblivion, the same pattern they’d established on the night of their escape.

Now, looking down at Ben, with his eyes still wide and full of residual terror, looking as frail and scared as he did himself, was like a sickening punch to the gut. He knew, of course he knew - how could it be otherwise? - that Ben was as deeply scarred as he was by everything that had happened. But seeing it right there in his face for the first time made Mark realise how much of it Ben must swallow back during the day, how much he had to suppress in order to take care of them both, while Mark just trailed like so much dead weight.

“Ben—”

“Are you all right?” Ben cut across him.

The question sounded so bizarre coming from him right now that Mark actually started. “Am _I_ all right?”

“Are you?” Ben pursued.

He breathed out. “Yeah.”

It was a lie, of course. He wasn’t all right. Neither was Ben. Nothing would ever be all right again. But “all right” for them had become shorthand for the most basic of mercies. Alive. Untouched. Not too shit-scared to think straight for the moment.

“Yeah,” he said again. “I’m all right.”

Ben gave a huge sigh, then held out his hands. “Here.”

Without thinking twice, Mark put his own hands in Ben’s and let him pull him into a hug. He held Mark tight, so tight it was hard to breathe, but Mark couldn’t bring himself to break free. He could feel the desperate, bone-bruising strength of Ben’s grip, and knew this was exactly the same way he held onto Ben after his own nightmares. If he’d just thought about it for a second, he’d have understood, as he understood so many other things, but somehow it hadn’t quite occurred to him that losing him would be the end of Ben’s world, just as losing Ben would be the end of his. Not really, not like this, in his very bones, in every beat of his pulse.

After a few minutes, Ben gave another sigh, this time of sheer relief. It gusted against the top of Mark’s head, ruffling his hair. At the same time, Mark felt his whole body relax as the lingering tension leached slowly out of his muscles, and it became easier to breathe. He broke the hug just long enough to slip under the covers beside Ben, who instantly curled on his side and hugged him close again. Mark held onto his arms, so there was no chance he could let go. The room was already warm, since wherever they stayed they kept the window shut and locked, and under the covers he was instantly too hot, but he didn’t care.

Remotely, he reflected that he would have been embarrassed to do this with either of his parents. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d climbed in with them after a bad dream when he was a little kid. But now he clung unashamedly to Ben, while Ben clung unashamedly to him, both of them beyond embarrassment, wanting only the comfort the other offered. 

He patted Ben’s arm. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” said Ben.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“What for?”

“I didn’t realise… I haven’t been helping. You’ve been taking care of everything, and I’ve just been letting you take all the weight.”

Ben gave a short, tired laugh, and squeezed him about the middle. “Mark, if I didn’t have you to take care of, I’d have gone crazy a long time ago.”

“Really?”

“Really,” said Ben, so emphatically there was no possibility of his disbelieving it. “Hell, some days you’re the only thing keeping me going.”

Mark’s eyes, already hot, now began to sting. Crying, that was something else that came easily to him now, when it never had before. He nestled further into Ben’s arms, and smiled into the darkness. It was a rather small and sad smile, but it was a smile all the same, and those were rare enough these days. He was determined to do better, but for now it was a good feeling, to know that even this was a help to Ben.

“Same.”

“Great,” said Ben, with an undeniable smile in his voice. “Now get some sleep. We've got a long way to go tomorrow.”

“Only if you do," said Mark. "You need as much rest as me. Deal?"

"Deal."


End file.
